Gideon regarded her a moment in silence, quite certain that she could not possibly have guessed the truth. Humans never desired to believe that there were powers beyond their comprehension.
“You still believe me to be an encroacher?” he demanded with a lift of his brow. “Shall I cut myself to prove my blue blood?”
Her features tightened, but Gideon suddenly sensed there was more than irritation behind her prickly unease. Despite all her bluff and bravado there was an unmistakable scent of fear in the air. Not a fear of her physical being, he carefully concluded, but a fear that he could harm her in some elusive fashion.
“What do you seek from me?” she demanded in tones that were not quite steady. “Is it money?”
Gideon regarded her with an arrested expression. The fear was now nearly palpable in the air.
She thought he desired money from her?
Why?
“Interesting.” He studied the guarded features that held enough stubborn pride to do a vampire proud. What could possibly force such a woman to harbor such anxiety? “You think I have come to blackmail you?”
A shiver raced through her stiff form but she faced him squarely.
“Have you?”
“I wonder what dark secret you possess,” he murmured softly. “It must be dark indeed to fear blackmail.”
Her gaze narrowed with impatience. “I am in no humor to play these absurd games, sir. What is it that you want?”
He briefly considered the wisdom of using her unwitting weapon to hold her in his power, before he was thrusting it aside. Perhaps he could force her to obey his commands, but he oddly disliked the notion of allowing her to believe he was a cowardly buffoon who would abuse her secrets for his own gain.
What he desired was her trust, he realized with a flare of surprise.
“It is really quite simple,” he informed her in silky tones. “I have come to protect you.”
“Protect me?” Her golden brows pleated in a disbelieving frown. “That is ridiculous. I need no protection.”
Foolish chit.
He briefly thought of Tristan standing upon the terrace last evening. With a single word he could have cloaked himself in mist and entered her home. She would have been dead before she ever realized she was in danger. Only the fact that she possessed the Medallion had thus far saved her. The renegade could not lure her with a spell, nor simply kill her. The Medallion had been bonded to her with a Soul Weave. Unless she gave it freely it could not be taken.
“That is because you do not yet realize your danger,” he informed darkly.
“Danger from whom?”
“That is all I am willing to tell you.”
“This is absurd.” She folded her arms about her waist, unconsciously making the full curve of her bosom all the more visible. Gideon could almost taste the sweet heat of her skin. “I am not about to allow some arrogant stranger to thrust his way into my home under the pretext of a mythical danger you will not even reveal.”
He gazed down the length of his thin nose. “Actually you have little choice in the matter.”
The absolute authority in his tone made a tiny muscle in her jaw pulse. “I was right last night. You are mad.”
Gideon shrugged, not about to indulge her in a futile argument. Protecting the Medallion was his entire purpose in being within the world of mortals. He would do whatever necessary.
Stepping close enough to be bathed in her rose scent, he allowed his gaze to lower toward the shimmering golden Medallion that lay against her white skin.
Although disguised as a simple amulet, his sensitive gaze could easily discern the power that pulsed within. He felt a small tingle of awe at the tangible symbol of Nefri and her glory.
“Tell me, Lady Gilbert, where did you buy that unusual necklace?”
She blinked in bewilderment at his sudden shift in conversation. “What?”
“It is a most interesting design.”